Going Home
by loveydoveymidget261
Summary: A home was really all she needed. [hints of Loliver]


A/N: Hello, lovers! I know I haven't been updating in a loooong while, but here is a oneshot until I update _Concrete Angel_. Oh, and this is my very first oneshot!! So, without further ado (Yes I know it's corny), here we go.

Dedication: I'd like to dedicate this to my best friend, Rachel. I don't know if it's any good, but it's angsty. I think. So thank you for being there. For everything.

Disclaimer: I don't know if we need these but anyway. I don't own Hannah Montana. Insert witty line here.

Going Home

Her mother wasn't proud of her. Eleanor Truscott wanted a girly girl, one who liked to get all dressed up and never made anything less than a B plus. She wanted a goody-goody two shoes, a teacher's pet, a preppy schoolgirl. What she got was Lilly Truscott, a skateboarder head-banging to the _Shins._ And so every time she saw Lilly walk down the stairs and out of the door, she clucked her tongue and sighed. A heavy sigh, and she hoped Lilly would hear it. Lilly always did.

By the time Lilly became 15, her mother stopped talking to her. Except for a cold "Good morning, dear," or a "Have fun at school," Lilly and Eleanor Truscott never interacted. And so Eleanor Truscott gave up on Lilly. Instead, she started to dote on Lilly's little sister, Layne. Layne Truscott was four. And she was everything her mother wanted her to be. Eleanor made sure of that every time Lilly walked in the door again. That Lilly would see Layne's bright, little shining face, and cute matching skirt and pink sneakers and Eleanor's affectionate attitude. Eleanor Truscott was sugary sweet to Layne, and she made sure that Lilly saw it.

It pierced Lilly's heart. And so, three days after her sixteenth birthday, when her mother told her that Lilly was useless and to get out of "my house", Lilly didn't say a word. Tight lipped, she quietly put all of her things in a suit case and a back pack. She hugged Layne Truscott, and walked out of the Truscott house one last time.

That day, she walked into school with her shoulder slumped over a little more. That day, her face had a few more lines on it. Her eyes had a few more bags under them, her cheeks were just a little bit more tearstained. Her heart was a little bit more broken.

(_Oh mother, you do wonders for my self esteem.)_

She didn't see her father anymore. Lilly's father had run away one night, and had left nothing but a crumpled piece of paper on the table. It was a note. Lilly went over to the table, but as soon as her hands wrapped around the paper, Eleanor had taken it and thrown in into the trash. Lilly gave her mother one disbelieving look and locked herself in the bathroom.

One day, her dad had visited. She thought it was a good day—they had gone to the park, played football, eaten ice cream. But then he said, "Sorry, Lilly-o. It's just, I can't live with you anymore. Please try to understand." She said she did. She was 12 and really didn't. Because really, if you loved someone, wouldn't you find a way to be with them?

_(You break my heart.)_

Two days before her sixteenth birthday, Lilly and Oliver had gone to one of Hannah's parties. As, of course, Lola Luftnagle and Mike Standley III. And they were forced, actually. But Miley's constant begging had persuaded them to go, and as a result, a blonde, a gangsta and a pretty girl with an outrageous purple bob had gone to the party. No prizes for guessing who.

At first, everything had gone fine. Lola hadn't screamed at Chris Brown, and Mike hadn't fainted over Mandy Moore. Yet. But then had Lola screwed up everything with Gwen Stefani. She had gone into hysterics over it; part of her natural blonde hair had even shown through over the hideously purple wig. And Mike could do nothing but stand and watch.

Eventually, though, it was Hannah who had had to take the blame. And she did, apologizing left and right, smiling weakly throughout. But the moment the limo dropped Lilly, Oliver and Miley off at the Stewarts', Miley burst out, shouting, yelling, screaming at the top of her lungs, that how could Lilly possibly be so fucking _stupid?_

Lilly couldn't believe her best friend was doing this to her. She sat down, to clear her thoughts, slumped against the couch. But it was Oliver who told Miley to fucking _shut up. _Because it really wasn't that bad, was it? And he had walked Lilly home.

(_It's so hard, going it alone.)_

The day Lilly Truscott walked out of her mother's house, she really had no idea where she was going. Her feet went about shuffling in an unknown direction. 12 minutes later, though, somehow, she found herself in front of a familiar house. And she finally felt at home.

She rang the doorbell, and was greeted with a familiar pair of chocolaty brown eyes. The shaggy haired boy looked at her and her suitcase and back pack in surprise, but let her in anyway. He waited until she was in the door and asked, "Why are you here?"

She wasn't surprised by the question. She had been expecting it any minute now. Nor was she offended—he didn't mean any harm to her. Instead, she plopped herself down on the worn out couch next to her. Somehow he knew something was wrong. So he plopped down right next to her. To his surprise, he saw tears welling up in her eyes. He wrapped his arms around her, and she felt safe. Secure. He held her, for what seemed like eternity. But it didn't matter, because it felt right. To him. And to her.

Then he got up, awkwardly. He heated up two slices of the cold pizza leftovers, one for him, one for her. She motioned for him to eat both, that she wasn't hungry, but he only ate one anyway. He went upstairs to find a blanket, and then settled down on the couch next to her. She laid her head on his shoulder, and they both fell asleep, each intertwined with the other. Halfway through the night though, she woke up and found the uneaten slice of pizza right next to her. She ate it in almost 30 seconds flat. Then she went right back to her spot on Oliver's shoulder.

He had woken her up that morning, and offered to drive her to school. And so that day at school, she held her head up a little higher. She walked a little straighter. Her shoulders were no longer stumped, her eyes weren't sad pools of blue as they had once been. And once, when Oliver had held her hand and walked her to class, she had even laughed. It was a loud, clear laugh, ringing in Oliver's ears and warming him up.

(_Your heart belongs to me.)_

A/N: Again, thank you so much for reading this! It meant a lot to me, since it was my very first oneshot. And please do review.

Feedback is love.

Hugs and kisses, Ashvi


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